


2017 DCU Prompt Fills

by TimmyJaybird



Series: DCU Ficlets [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi, Polyamory, genderfluid tim, tags of course to be added as they come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: All the prompts form the year, collected from my tumblr!





	1. Stop Doing This to Yourself (JayTim)

**Author's Note:**

> syntactition asked: 21, Tim/Jason?
> 
> “Stop doing this to yourself.”

“Jason.” Tim’s voice felt like background noise, as Jason threaded the needle in his hand through the wound down on his abdomen. It was shallow and he’d gotten the bleeding to stop, but that didn’t mean the stitches didn’t hurt like a _bitch_. “Jason.”

Jason gritted his teeth, not looking up. His fingers were bloodstained, red caked up under his nails. He was hurting from the gash on his arm, the blood had chilled and begun to dry and was _uncomfortable_. The gunshot that had grazed his other arm a few nights prior was burning again, and the bandages on his back were coming loose-

“ _Jason_!” This time Tim’s voice broke into his head, rattled around and made his skull ache. Jason looked up, still holding the needle, and Tim had ripped his mask off, was holding it limp in one hand and just _staring_  at him across the room. “Stop doing this to yourself.”

Jason snorted, looking back at his work. “Ya think I did this to _myself_ , Replacement? You saw it all go down.” Jason tugged the needle, before tying the stitches off and setting it aside. He took a moment to just breathe, before he was reaching for a bottle of pills he’d laid out. He popped it open, tossed two into his mouth and swallowed them dry, hoping they’d take the edge off. He’d run out of anything stronger than over the counter crap.

Tim sighed, and when Jason looked up again he was taking a few steps over. “You’re… not like this.” Tim waved his hand at Jason, at the bloody mess he was. “You’re _better_  than this.”

Jason didn’t say anything, but there was a bitter laugh boiling up in his throat. It choked him, and swallowing it down made his stomach turn.

“Better?” he sneered, standing up. Stripped completely to the waist, he was all dirty, bloody muscle and hulking size. He felt giant-

And yet he felt _small_ , because maybe Tim was speaking the truth.

“Tell that to anyone else in this family and they’ll laugh.” He turned away from Tim, but knew his eyes were taking in the patches of bandage taped all along his back. “Golden boy thinks I’m outta my mind and B thinks I’m a lost cause.” He hunched over, wondering if he could wrap up the gash on his arm and not stitch it. He was sick of stitching himself up.

“And a part of you thinks they’re right.” Tim was suddenly standing next to him, and Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. He had _no right_  being a bat like that. Being anything like everyone Jason wanted to be.

“Fuck on off, Timbo,” Jason snarled, but Tim was touching his arm then, gloved fingers moving up his forearm, just past his elbow. Over the sticky blood and then pausing, so Tim could peer at the gash.

“Can I stitch this one up?” Tim asked, and Jason wanted to scream at him that he shouldn’t even _be_  here. That he shouldn’t have followed Jason home, because word would get back and the _family_  wouldn’t approve-

And why tarnish something _good_  like Tim with his filth?

“Run on home, little birdie,” Jason said, but the venom was fading fast from his voice. “Before daddy Bats gets word you’re out past curfew.”

Tim laughed at that. Something low, small, but real- and Jason hated that it made him smile. Tim carefully tugged his gloves off, dropping them on the table, and grabbing the gauze and disinfectant.

“I’m good at sneaking back in,” Tim offered, carefully beginning to clean the wound. Jason hissed, looked up and away, but couldn’t deny that Tim’s touch was gentle. “And you’re just afraid if I stay, you’ll have to admit that I’m right.”

Jason bit his tongue. Admit that Tim was right- that he was being _reckless_  because he couldn’t stand being disowned anymore? That maybe he had a death wish beneath everything else? That if he couldn’t get back into the _family_  that he had been taken from, that had grown so much- that if they couldn’t understand why he was doing this-

Then what was even the point of going on at all?

“Do you have anything _domestic_  in this place?” Tim asked, beginning to stitch the wound. “Like a coffeepot or mugs and a microwave?”

Jason glanced around the garage like underground hideout. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t live here.”

It was a lie, because he hardly ever went _home_.

“Well then, think you can keep yourself upright on a bike? I’ll treat you to tea and a couch probably more comfortable than the chair you _obviously_  don’t sleep in here because you _obviously_  leave.” Jason glanced at the computer chair that was showing it’s wear, before he opened his mouth-

And promptly clamped it shut.

“You shouldn’t-”

“I should,” Tim argued, setting the needle down and beginning to wrap a bandage around Jason’s arm. “Because you obviously need _something_ , Jason. And maybe I can’t give you whatever it is… but I can try.” He stepped back, and Jason looked at his arm, before turning his eyes back to Tim.

“You have no reason to. I’ve tried to _kill_  you.”

“Yeah, and I’ve forgiven you.” Tim held out his hand. “Now, tea and a real place to sleep for the night. I’d offer to make you breakfast in the morning, but it’d probably be burn even if it was just toast.”

Jason stared at that hand, before he carefully took it. “Maybe I can handle breakfast,” he said, and he _told_  himself that when Tim flashed a smile, his gut twisted because he was _tired_  and hurt-

And not because Tim’s smile seemed too good for this world.


	2. Smile (DickDami)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happyk44 asked: #3 “I just want to see you smile…” - Dick and Damian (platonic or romantic, either one is cool) :D. Hope 2017 is going good for you so far! :)

“Grayson,” Damian said, grasping the back of the computer chair in the cave and peering around it. “Come spar with me.”

Dick grunted, staring at the computer screen. He hadn’t moved in _hours_ , and his fatigue was showing in his eyes. They were growing red, and the dark circles beneath reminded Damian of Tim on a normal day.

“Grayson,” he started again, “Are you listening?”

“Not now,” he mumbled, clicking off of whatever he was reading to something else. Damian frowned, leaning a little closer to Dick’s shoulder.

“Come upstairs then,” he said, “Pennyworth recently went shopping. There is ice cream.”

“Busy,” Dick managed, and Damian rolled his eyes.

“Then perhaps get some air? Titus could use some exercise.” When Dick didn’t respond, Damian grasped the chair, jerking it back and spinning it around. Dick leaned to one side, eyes going wide, as he was suddenly facing Damian. But before the teen could get a word in, Dick was _glaring_.

“What the fuck, were you not listening?” He grasped the arms of the chair, leaning forward. “I’m _working_  Damian. If you’re bored you’ll have to entertain yourself.”

Damian returned the glower. “-tt- You ass,” he hissed, “I was not _bored_.”

“Sure sound it. Now, this is important-”

“I just wanted you to smile.” Dick’s mouth quickly clamped shut, and Damian folded his arms, looking away. “You have not moved in hours and you have not showered nor slept. You look like hell. I have not seen you smile in days now.”

Dick stared at him, before he reached up, scrubbed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry little D,” he mumbled, “You’re right, I haven’t moved, or really taken care of myself. This case is just… _ugly_.”

His hand fell to his lap, and Damian looked back at him, pretty jade eyes softening. “You are becoming like father,” he chided, and Dick groaned, tossing his head back and squeezing his tired eyes shut.

“Oh god please no,” he muttered, and Damian cracked a smile then. Dick felt him grasped the arms of the chair himself, leaning over- and then his lips were against Dick’s cheek, kissing despite the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave since he really _hadn’t_  showered.

“You can still do something about it,” Damian offered, and Dick cracked his eyes open, glancing at him.

“You’re right,” he said, “the case can hold long enough for me to clean up. Also, I think you said something about ice cream?”


	3. Glitter (TimDami)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: #7 for the prompts for timdami  
> “Stop looking at me like that, it’s your fault anyway.”

“Stop it,” Damian said, squirming around. The ropes binding him were _tight_ , and he could admit the knots were impressive. Well practiced and used often.

Tim continued to stare at Damian, his hair falling into his face. There was glitter shining in it, glitter glistening all over his skin, heavy around his eyes with the purples he’d used the shadow them. Damian hadn’t realized just how much of the sparkly lotion Tim had used before they’d left for the mission.

Damian squirmed again, glancing away. Color was burning on his cheeks now, and each movement dragged the lace he was wearing over his skin.

Why had he agreed to this undercover mission? Why had he and Tim been the ones who had to dress up? _Why had Grayson picked lace and grinned like a fool_?

“I said stop,” Damian said, “- looking at me like that. It’s your fault anyway.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Tim asked, leaning forward. Damian could see his shoulders shifting as he tried to work the ropes around his wrists. “I’m not the one who fumbled whenever someone asked for a dance?”

“I was not prepared for those situations!”

“Stephanie and I spent _days_  teaching you how to give a fucking lap dance! If you’d just gone ahead and _practiced_  like I told you to-”

“I was not going to move in such an obscene way on _your_  lap!”

“- Well you could’ve practiced with Steph then. But jesus Damian one hand on your ass and you lose it and _blow our fucking cover_?”

“It was inappropriate!”

“And you still should have been braced for it!”

Damian glared. “Well _excuse_  me for not being the _harlot_  you are. Lingerie and glitter are not exactly my _thing_ , Drake.” Damian huffed, glancing down along Tim- and god, that was a mistake.

Because he looked _good_ , and maybe Damian had actually been distracted watching him move, and hadn’t seen the guy’s hand move to grab his ass. Maybe he’d let his guard down because he was filing away Tim as he was tonight for his own late night fantasies-

He came back to himself when he realized the ropes around Tim were falling away, and he was standing up. Damian watched him flip a blade shut, before moving the somewhat sheer camisole he was wearing and replacing it in the leather _harness_  he had worn beneath.

It was hidden perfectly.

“Think you can shape up long enough to salvage this?” Tim asked, “or should I just leave you here for the night?”

Damian swallowed thickly, squeezing his thighs together. There was a dull but familiar ache and he _knew_  the predicament he was in. “Perhaps,” he started, but Tim was already untying the knots, pulling the ropes from around Damian. When he was done Damian still didn’t stand up, glanced away instead.

“Are you coming?” Tim asked, quite obviously annoyed. “We don’t have all night.”

“I just… need a minute.” Damian squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath- but Tim was grabbing his arms, hoisting him up. Damian made a surprised little noise, didn’t open his eyes, couldn’t _bare_  to because it was obvious-

There was a drawn out silence, and then- “ _Oh_.” Damian opened his eyes, and Tim was just… looking at him. Damian folded his arms, fidgeting, trying to think of some excuse- “Uh, okay. Yeah. Take a minute.” Tim glanced back up, rubbing his neck, and the glitter all over him was sparkling again.

Goddammit Damian never even _liked_  glitter and now he just wanted to cover a pillow in the traced of the stupid lotion and rut against it.

“It’s not what you think,” Damian mumbled, and Tim licked his lips.

“Yeah, okay.” He paused, and then, “But… if it is. Well…” He glanced back. “This isn’t going to take _all_  night. If we don’t fuck up again.” Damian quirked a brow, and Tim shrugged a shoulder. “Just saying, if you wanna… you know, let off some steam later. I… could be down.”

Oh, this was _not_  happening. Damian was _not_  dressed a a stripped with a damn hard-on with Tim propositioning him for anything physical and intimate after the mission-

This was a wet dream gone horribly wrong.

But… “Think on it,” Tim said, finally moving past Damian, “but let’s go kick some ass and get on with the night, okay?”

Damian couldn’t argue. Especially if Tim was serious about his offer.


	4. Maybe I Cared (BruJay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Brujay, 25?
> 
> “I don’t want to be alone.”

Bruce stared up at the old portrait, hanging in the dark hallway. His father’s eyes seemed black and endless, looking back at him, _into_  him. His face wasn’t warm like Bruce tried to remember- but cold, unreachable.

The hand his mother had on his shoulder, he could almost picture digging in, her nails like claws.

Bruce wrapped his arms around himself, his hands sliding along the silk of his black robe. The thunder had woken him. The thunder and remnants of a dream where pearls burst like eggs, spilled blood as they hit the ground. Where corpses rose and towered over him, morphing into deformed demons with leathery bat wings, with gaping mouths and shining teeth.

Where his parents were _disappointed_  because he had turned their memory into _that_. Into some bastardization of what their lives had been, so he could fuel a child’s dream of _saving the world._

Bruce heard the rain continuing to pelt outside, the thunder as it crashed. He should be out there, chasing his demons away. Forgetting who he was and _becoming_  the Bat.

The Bat didn’t have nightmares.

But his leg throbbed, the bullet wound in his thigh still healing. It was deep, caused him to walk with a limp, made him botch his landings when he jumped. He’d only stayed back because Alfred had _pleaded_ , and he couldn’t deny him.

He heard the footsteps echoing before they were even close. He figured at first they were Alfred, in which case he would be left alone. He had never promised to sleep, simply to stay in for the evening. But at they grew closer he realized they were too heavy for that, the shoes making them wet.

He glanced towards the beginning of the hallway, and found Jason’s dark silhouette looming there, filling it like a hulking beast of a shadow.

“You’re outta bed,” Jason mused, inclining his head. No helmet, no _suit_. Jeans and his leather jacket, hair that looked tussled like maybe he’d been sleeping. Stubble beginning to appear that he’d be dark, come proper morning.

“As are you,” Bruce pointed out, and then, “what are you doing here?”

“Wonder boy called me, asked if I wanted to fill in the roster for the evening,” Jason admitted, walking towards him. “Told me you got shot up and were on bed rest. I… thought maybe it’d be worse.” Jason paused a few steps back, reaching up to rub at his neck, the crook of it into his shoulder.

Bruce knew the body language. Knew when Jason was anxious because he had over thought, had pictured a world ending in his head only to find a few rocks loose from the stone path. Bruce eyed him as Jason continued to avoid his eyes, before asking, “Did you imagine me hooked up to a machine that breathed for me?”

Jason snapped his eyes to him, glaring. “Not funny,” he said, and his voice was stone. So different from what Bruce remembered, when Jason was young and hopefully. When he just wanted to be good, and Bruce never told him enough that he was. “Maybe I thought you’d fucked up _hard_  if you were actually staying in. Maybe I wondered if you were hanging on by a thread.” Jason huffed, adding, “Maybe I _cared_.”

Bruce’s eyes softened then, and when Jason advanced on him, he didn’t argue. Didn’t fight him back. He let the younger man turn him, shove him up against the wall, the heavy frame of the portrait digging into Bruce’s back. Jason leaned in close, fisting his hands in Bruce’s robe.

“Maybe I was a fool,” he offered, and Bruce reached up, squeezed both of Jason’s wrists, one in each hand.

“You came straight here,” Bruce said, and Jason didn’t respond. “You pictured me dying and you… came.” The word caught, and Bruce swallowed. The nightmares were still clinging to the edges of his mind, and _knowing_  that there was someone still _breathing_  that cared about him-

It could help him remember that his parents, they had loved him. They would be proud that he _tried_  to make the world a better place.

“’Course I did,” Jason mumbled, leaning in, tipping his head down. He rested it in the crook of Bruce’s neck, as Bruce let go of his wrists. Carefully, he wound his arms around Jason, until he could clutch at the back of his jacket, turned and press his face into his hair, damp with rain water, smelling like the air and the dampness and the city and the night.

Bruce closed his eyes, and admitted, very softly, to the ghosts and the nightmares and the one who had come _back_  after being lost- “I don’t want to be alone.”

He knew he wouldn’t be.


	5. That'll Do (Sladin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 10 with sladin?
> 
> “Come here, you need a hug.”

“You look like shit,” Dick said, hands on his hips. Slade was in his kitchen, stripping of his suit onto the little half cluttered table. It was three AM, and the ruckus he’d started getting into Dick’s apartment could have woken the dead.

So much for stealthy _assassin_  and hitman.

“Thanks _boy wonder_ ,” Slade said, dropping a gun onto the table. “I feel it too.” There were aches in every muscle, from whatever drugs he’d been hit with during his run. From the hit’s he’d _taken_  because he’s been out of it. He didn’t think anything was broken, and he didn’t need stitches- but he’d be one big bruise, come morning. With plenty of pulled muscles.

Dick hummed, shifting his weight. He was in his briefs and a tshirt, quite obviously had been asleep until about two minutes prior. Slade gave him one look, before he continued to strip of his suit. “Didn’t go well I take it?”

“Intel was bad,” Slade admitted, “Drug warefare- I was braced for a physical fight, not that. Oh, and my kids still aren’t talking to me.”

“Well, you _did_  give Rose the information that got her captured in the first place. And by association, yeah, Joey wouldn’t talk to you either.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Slade said, because it _wasn’t_. This time. There hadn’t been a lesson in that. Dick continued to stare at him, and Slade huffed. “Are you going to fuckin’ stare all night?”

Dick sighed, shaking his head, before he was walking over. “Come here,” he said, reaching for Slade, “You need a hug.”

“I need a bottle of whiskey and Vicodin,” Slade countered, even as Dick got his arms around him. The squeeze hurt his aching muscles, but Dick’s warmth made up for it. And _god_  he did fit perfectly against Slade. When he rested his head against Slade’s collar bone, Slade could only reach up, pet his hair.

“Not together,” Dick pointed out, making a little, happy noise, as Slade stroked his hair. “But I’ve got painkillers and a warm, half slept in bed. And no alarm for the morning.” He didn’t lift his head, and Slade hooked his other arm around Dick’s waist, squeezing.

“That’ll do,” he admitted, and he _knew_  when Dick smiled.


	6. Used (JayRoy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 19 and jayroy?
> 
> “You… you used me.”

“Did it mean anything?” Roy asked, despite the blood welling up in his mouth. It stained the cracks of his teeth, his capped lips. Was even smeared over his chin, where he lay, on the ground. Jason was standing above him, looking down through half his mask- the other half shattered completely. There was a cut around his eye from it, one heavy, thick trail of blood along his temple.

Jason didn’t say a word, keeping his gun poised and aimed at Roy. Roy swallowed, and the blood made his stomach roll, made him want to vomit.

“Anything at all?” he managed, his fingers flexing along the rooftop. “Did you ever look at me and _care_?” And then, louder now, _fuming_ , “Did you ever look at _Lian_  and love her?”

He saw Jason’s eyes waver, and then heard the click of his gun cocking. “Shut up,” Jason muttered, and Roy pushed himself up on his hands. He couldn’t stand, his ankle was twisted too damn badly to support his waist. As it was, his cybernetic arm was sparking, shocking him and making him think it’d go out completely soon.

“No,” he said, his green eyes going wild. “ _No_. Not until you can look me in the eye and tell me that every damn night I let you touch me meant _nothing_. Not until you can tell me that you never loved me, never loved Lian, never loved _what we were_!”

He was yelling, but his throat was hoarse. He swallowed another mouthful of blood and spit, against the sound of a helicopter, slowly descending close to the roof.

Jason gripped the gun tighter, and Roy could see his hand shaking. “It never meant a thing.” His voice was cold, _dead_  in so many ways that Roy felt all the heat draining right from his body.

“You used me,” he whispered, _agony_  so thick it welled up over his mouth like bile. And all he could do was stare at Jason, _broken_ , as his lover’s finger pulled back on the trigger, as the sound of the gunshot broke the air.

Jason looked away, directly after, turning quickly to head towards the chopper. Over the sound of the blades, Black Mask could be heard, _congratulating_  him on a job well done, on how he was a _good son_  and this city would realize that, now.

It was only when the chopper was a complete memory that Roy moved. That he pushed himself up again, looking over at the bullet lodged in the concrete of the roof. He sat carefully, examining his sparking arm, wondering how much work it would need to be properly functioning again.

Jason had _truly_  put on a good show. Had been convincing enough that Roy’s stomach still turned when he saw Jason in his mind, saying it had never meant a thing.

He knew it was a lie. But he couldn’t wait for this to be over and to have Jason remind him.


	7. Pop-Tarts (DickTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 22 with DickTim, please? <3
> 
> “Oh… don’t cry…”

“Tim, _Timmy_ ,” Dick said, hands up as if to show he wasn’t _hiding_  anything. “Just… listen to me.”

The younger was standing in the kitchen of the Manor, in nothing but his _briefs_ , holding a very large but very empty box of Strawberry Pop-Tarts. Holding them in shaking hands and _god_  Dick was terrified he was going to explode completely.

“Look, I’m sure Damian didn’t do it on purpose,” Dick continued, as Tim clutched the box tighter.

“He _knows_  they’re my favorite.” His voice was a bit high, stress and days upon _days_  of no sleep. The bags under his eyes were so damn large and dark that Dick figured at this point they were a fashion statement. “He doesn’t even _like_  Pop-Tarts.”

“He probably was just hungry and grabbed what was handy.” Dick took another step towards Tim. “Let’s not do anything we-” he cut off when he noticed Tim’s eyes were _wet_ , and suddenly the corners were leaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. “-regret,” he finished, having been prepared for Tim to launch into an _attack_  on the younger Robin, like he had the last time he’d been sleep deprived and Damian had done anything to offset him.

But he _hadn’t_  been prepared to see him cry. And Tim had to be far more tired than he even realized.

“Oh… don’t cry…” Dick managed, hurrying over. He took the box, setting it on the counter and gathering Tim up, holding him right to his chest. Tim burrowed into his sweater, hiccuping a sob, and Dick rubbed his hands along his bare back. “Shhh, okay babybird, it’s alright. How about we get you to lay down and I’ll find you something else to eat?”

Tim mumbled something, but Dick wasn’t convinced it was even real words. He could feel Tim relaxing, and held him tighter, supporting his weight and realizing that Tim was going to be asleep before he even got him out of the kitchen.

Dick hoisted him up, tossing him over his shoulder, and Tim went easily, wrapping his arms around him and resting his cheek against his hair, the back of his neck. He didn’t say a word, as Dick carried him out of the kitchen, swearing he would _never_  let Tim miss this much sleep again.


	8. Whatchamacallit (DamiRoy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cadkitten asked: “God, just shut up!” - DamiRoy

“And when you hook _this_  do-hicky up to this _whatchamacallit_ ,” Roy said, plugging in a thin cord to the strange box he had sitting on his work bench, “the whole _thing_  lights up.” The box took to life then, seams glowing a jade, just like Damian’s eyes, the same color showing up on the Roybot Roy had plugged into it.

“Harper-”

“I haven’t gotten it all figured out yet,” Roy admitted, holding up the box and turning it in his hands. “Kori didn’t really enlighten me on it when she let me take it off her ship. But I think it has some data stored in here. But I configured a port that my Roybot could use, and now I should be able to download it all and let the _bot_  skim through it.” He tossed the cube gently, and Damian sighed.

“That is well and _fine_ , but-”

“I’m hoping maybe I can teach the Roybots some alien language,” Roy continued, as if Damian had not tried to speak. “How could would that be? Instead of just screeching in Navajo had intruders they could scream in _Alien languages_.” He grinned, reaching over and patting the Roybot’s head, as it sat idle, downloading.

“Yes, but-”

“Maybe I’ll piece together a _map_. I mean _sure_  if I need to map out space I could talk to the Lanterns but this is more fun, and who knows how they censor those things-”

“ _Harper_!” Damian yelled it now, and Roy clamped his mouth shut, as Damian continued, “God, just shut up!” Roy bit at his lip, and Damian sighed, his shoulders sagging. He reached over, carefully taking the cube from Roy’s hand to set in his workbench. “I am sorry to yell,” Damian offered, stepping a little closer, “I know you are excited. And I _do_  want to hear about it all. But dinner is going to be freezing if we do not stop.”

Roy laughed at that, the kind that had Damian’s knees going weak. The redhead leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Damian’s dark cheek, smiling.

“My bad kid, I was so into this that I just wanted to share and forget you even brought dinner over. Let me wash up.” He moved around Damian, heading for the industrial sink in his workshop, as Damian reached up, rubbed his cheek.

“Do not call me _kid_ ,” he called, turning and watching Roy stoop over. “It is _strange_ , all things considered.”

 _All things considered_ , like how Damian hoped before the night was out he’d be straddling Roy’s lap on the couch, or pushed up against the wall of his kitchen-

Or better yet, sprawled out in his probably unmade bed.

Roy hummed a wordless response, and Damian knew he wouldn’t remember. He never did. But Damian took the victory when Roy headed over to him, slid an arm around him and his hand down into one of Damian’s back pockets, turning him towards the stairs. Took the victory that Roy was, as always, willing to lavish his attention on him more than he would his toys.


	9. Gullible (TimDami)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hookahpop asked: From the prompt list, 4 with TimDami? I'm so in love with your portrayal <3
> 
> “I can’t believe you believed me!”

Tim was doubled over laughing, so damn loud Damian swore it was echoing through the cave. He was a few feet away, clutching at his sides, while Damian stood next to the Batmobile, glowering.

“It is _not_  funny,” he said, and Tim snorted, laughing to the point he was almost hiccuping.

“Oh god it _is_ ,” he said, and then, “I can’t believe you believed me!” He reached up, covered his face with both his hands, sounded almost like he was sobbing.

Damian was about to _really_  make him cry.

“There was no reason for you to lie!” he yelled, and next to him, Titus lifted his head from where he lay, at Damian’s legs. He’d laid down almost the moment they’d gotten down to the cave.

“Damian, think about it.” Tim straightened up, took a steadying breath. “Like Bruce would _actually_  set up a specific seat in the Batmobile for Titus.”

“Do not forget the _suit_  you said he was surprising me with for him,” Damian added, and Tim giggled.

“Oh god I _can’t_.” He laughed again, and Damian marched up, reaching up and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Tim didn’t fight him off, as Damian furrowed his brows.

“I should _punch you_.”

“Worth it,” Tim admitted, “you’re so _gullible_  babybat.” Damian clicked his tongue, and Tim reached up, curled one hand around one wrist. “But okay, I’m sorry. It was mean of me to take advantage of that. What can I do to make up for it?”

Damian didn’t move, hummed as he thought, before, “You can give Titus a bath. He truly needs it.” Tim grimaced, and Damian let go of him, reaching up and curled his fingers in his mouth, whistling. The moment he did Titus was up and lumbering over, panting happily with his tongue lolled out as he looked up at Tim. Tim looked down at him, and while he _loved_  the aging dog, he did _not_  love the idea of bathing him. At all. “Do not forget,” Damian said, as Tim sighed, reaching down to pat Titus on the head and try to get him to follow him. “Titus requires two thorough shampooings, and specific  towels. He _must_  he toweled dry.”

“God above,” Tim mumbled, hanging his head, “it wasn’t funny enough for _this_.”

Damian disagreed.


	10. What Am I To You? (JayTim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flashthroughlight asked: 18. "What am I to you?" - JayTim please!

Tim tipped his head back as the bathroom door opened. The light remained off as Jason walked over, bending over the tub and holding out a wine glass. Tim eyed it for a second, before his mouth curved into a smile. He lifted his hand from the warm water, taking the glass in silent thanks, and carefully taking a sip. As he did, Jason got down on his knees, rolling the sleeves of his button down up to his elbows.

Tim watched but didn’t speak, liked the way the candles Jason had lit- and _brought_ \- flicked light over his hands and arms, as they eased under the water, sliding along Tim’s chest. Jason leaned over the tub, pressed right to Tim’s shoulders, was breathing into his pulled back hair.

There didn’t need to be a reason for the touch. Tim had hurt horribly, before he’d gotten in the tub. His ankle was so swollen and twisted he couldn’t even walk on it, he’d had to use a crutch at the office today. Jason had carried him around the apartment the entire night. And his ribs were still sore from the bruising beating he’d taken, two nights ago.

But Jason’s touch didn’t _hurt_. His calloused fingers were tender, hit all the right places to have Tim sighing, leaning his weight back against the tub and him. He felt Jason kiss his hair, and lifted the glass, taking a long sip.

“Slow, Replacement,” Jason whispered, “Have to keep it light with your painkillers.”

Jason had been willing to concede for _one_  glass. Tim knew he wouldn’t get more.

Tim smiled with his mouth still against the glass, slowly pulling it away. It set it on the edge of the tub, moving to slowly turn. He got his waist twisted so he could see Jason, reached one wet hand up to brush along his cheek, keep him still so he could study the affection in those gray eyes.

“Jason,” he whispered, and his name felt so _good_  on his tongue. “Tell me something.”

“Anything you want, babygirl.” Jason turned enough to kiss his fingertips, and Tim shivered.

“What am I to you?”

Jason glanced up at Tim, reaching up to cup the hand at his face. He held it, squeezed gently, moved to kiss Tim’s palm. “Beyond a god and goddess,” he mumbled, his words breaths against warm, wet skin. “Ethereal. All knowing. All loving.” He moved to Tim’s wrist, and Tim couldn’t help but quake, Jason’s warm mouth feeling like it could pull secrets from his blood. “Endlessly smart and _loving_.” Moving towards the crook of his elbow. Jason forced Tim’s arm to straighten, kissed the highly tender skin there. “The one who allowed me to _find_  myself.”

Tim’s breath escaped him, and before he could even think, he was turning, his ankle screaming as he moved more but he didn’t care. He got his arms around Jason’s neck, pressed right up against his chest and kissed him. He knew he was soaking Jason’s shirt, but the man wasn’t complaining as he kissed Tim back, moved his mouth slow and affectionately.

Kissed Tim like he was cared for.

“I love you,” Tim whispered, and his chest seized up, went tight and ached over it. Because he _did_  and he never forgot, but these quiet moments, where Jason was there and loving… were they could pretend to be _normal-_

They only made it all too apparent to Tim.

“I love you too babygirl,” Jason whispered, smiling all the way up to his eyes. “Always will.”


	11. Missing You (JoyFire)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 26 for Joyfire!
> 
> “Do you hate me, too?”

“Do you hate me too?”

It was three AM. It was dark and the city was sleeping, around them. Slumbering and dreaming and hoping that tomorrow would be better.

His voice made something inside Kori hurt, made her belly twist in uncomfortable ways. It made the few feet between them feel like miles, feel like she was flying above the skyline and he was drowning, in the sulking and heavy depths of the Gotham bay.

It made Jason seem dead and lost, again.

“Jason,” she offered, watched him drop the helmet he had pulled off, when she had landed on the rooftop. It clattered and rolled towards her, stopping a few steps away. He reached up, covered his face with one hand, and she could see his shoulders shake.

“He’s better without me.” His voice was bitter but not at _her_ , or at the _him_  she knew he speak of. It ached but the cause he wasn’t hiding.

He was hurting himself.

“I did it for him,” he continued, and Kori swore she could smell the salt from his tears. “So he’d _see_. He was so hurt without you- and I… I can’t…” his shoulders shook, and Kori felt herself growing dizzy. “I can’t _save_  him. I can’t even save myself.”

His breath sobbed out, and Kori was moving, crossing the roof in sure, long strides. She didn’t hesitate to reach out, wrap one overly warm hand around Jason’s wrist and force his hand from his face. He stared up at her, his grey eyes looking shattered, and Kori hated the world that had made Jason Todd believe he was _bad_  for anyone.

“You save many every day,” Kori reasoned, and when Jason opened his mouth, she shook her head. “You love Roy.”

“Of course,” he admitted, without hesitation.

“As do I. I never _stopped_. Nor did I stop loving you…” Kori swallowed, her throat feeling tight. “I left to find myself, _darling_. To know who I am so that I could show her to you. To Roy. So I would not lose myself.” She inclined her head, let his wrist go to cup his face in both her hands, stroke his wet cheeks with her thumbs. “I wanted to find a way to love myself the way the both of you loved me.”

Jason exhaled, and Kori leaned in, pressed the softest kiss to his mouth. He tasted like smoke, and she always loved that she swore he was the fire, in her belly. In her blood.

And Roy was the skin that contained it, that kept them burning but never _combusting_.

“Kori,” he whispered, and her name made her almost weak. She only allowed herself to be like this with him, with Roy. They had earned that.

“I have found myself,” she continued, “I am back to find you again. To find Roy. To hope that you can still love me, as I have loved you both.”

She felt Jason’s arms going around her, and then his face, pressing to her collar bone, her chest. She wrapped her arms around him, held him tenderly as he sobbed another breath.

“We missed you,” he nearly whimpered, and she rubbed a hand along his back.

“I missed you too,” she admitted. “And when you feel better, we will find Roy. And we will talk.”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” Jason mumbled, and Kori shook her head.

“I know him. I _love_  him. He wants to speak with you. I am sure he is missing you, as you miss him.”

“And you,” Jason added, and Kori smiled.

“Yes, as I am missing him too.”


	12. Exhausted (JayTimDami)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 9 jaytim or damitim please ^^
> 
> “You look exhausted.” 
> 
> You know what happens when you list two ships? I combine them, sorry Anon.

“Have you slept at _all_?” Damian asked, watching Tim moving with his eyes nearly shut. He grunted, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring into a mug that, Damian swore, he had been using for two solid days without washing.

“It’s worse than you made it seem,” Jason said, leaning his arm onto Damian’s shoulder. The youngest had texted him that he was _concerned_  over Tim’s sleeping habits, but Jason figured it was the usual.

Not that this was unusual.

Which maybe was the _really_  bad part.

“Fine,” Tim mumbled, moving to prepare his coffee. He was half way to the fridge when Jason jogged over, forcing his hand onto it to keep it shut. He grabbed Tim’s mug, got those pretty blue eyes to snap open- and they were completely bloodshot.

“You look like hell,” Jason said, “you need to go to bed.”

“’Nother hour or two.”

“Oh no, _now_.” Jason nodded, and Damian moved quickly, got his hands on Tim’s waist and forcibly turned him. When Tim fought, Damian huffed and lifted him up, tossing him over his shoulder.

“But me _down_ ,” Tim said, even though he didn’t even have the energy to smack at Damian’s back. By the time they reached the stairs he had given up squirming, and by the time they were up them, he was limp and completely docile.

“I never see him like this,” Jason said, following closely behind, opening the door to Tim’s bedroom for Damian. “I mean, like- _calm_. Were it me he probably would’ve knocked out a tooth.”

“If I could lift my arms,” Tim muttered, “I would.”

“Love you too, _sugar_.” Jason reached out, pinched Tim’s cheek, before Damian was dropping him onto the bed, rather ceremonially. Tim sprawled there, before Jason pushed past, dragged him up to the pillows.

“I have work to do,” Tim said, even as his eyes were already shut.

“Yeah, yeah, _yeah_ ,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Babybat, get his jeans off him.”

Damian wordlessly complied, struggling because Tim began to twist and didn’t want to _cooperate_  and honestly, Damian was sure he would never have _children_  because he had _this_  has a boyfriend.

“Drake I _swear_ ,” he said through gritted teeth, before finally getting them off. He tossed them to the floor, noticing there was already two sweaters there, a pair of sweatpants-

Oh god Tim had barely left his room all week, it seemed.

Damian settled his hands on his hips, watching as Jason pulled the blanket up, forcibly tucking Tim in. Tim finally sighed, rolling around until he was sprawled on his belly, his unwashed hair fanned out as he snuggled right into his pillow. It seemed like barely thirty seconds before his breathing was evening out, and he was quite obviously out.

“Hard to believe that _this_  is the Tim that makes ya weak in the knees,” Jason said, even though he was smiling fondly. And Damian could agree- it was wild, how Tim could be an utter _disaster_  when he forgot to sleep and wrapped himself up in work and shut himself in, versus the seemingly heavenly _creature_  he became when he put himself together and had gotten a bit of rest.

Damian couldn’t help but smile as well, before Jason was sliding his arm around his shoulders, squeezing affectionately as he leaned over, kissed his temple.

“Maybe later we can crawl in with him,” Jason whispered, and Damian could melt into his heat. “Catch a few hours of sleep to make up for the hours we’re sure to lose tonight.”

It sounded like heaven, and Damian couldn’t argue.


	13. Favorite Little Bat (Rose&Damian)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> murmurbaby asked: "REMEMBER WHEN THERE WERE SOME DAMIAN AND ROSE WILSON INTERACTION I WANT THEIR FRIENDSHIP, AND WANT THEM TO BE BADASS HOTTIES WHO'D SLAY EVERYTHING. TIMMY plEASE FULFILL MY WISHES BEFORE 2017 TAKES ME WHOLE"
> 
> I DO REMEMBER AND I MISS THIS AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU GOT IT. DAMIAN IS SWEET-SIXTEEN POOR SWEET SUMMER TEENAGE CHILD.
> 
> Also hints of Rose/a certain pretty purple bat.

 

Damian huffed, grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk and wiping at his eye. He blinked after doing so, looking back in the mirror at the black smudges the eyeliner had left, and heaved a sigh, tossing the tissue down to join a pile of them. He’d been trying for too damn long and he just wasn’t sure it was _worth_  it at this point-

“Hey-o _brat pants_!” It was shouted as his door was shoved open, Rose hopping in with a grin plastered on her face. “What’re you doin’ up here when you have a _cave_  to sulk in?”

“-tt- Don’t you _knock_?” He was smiling slightly as he said it, as Rose straightened up, placed her hands on her hips. She looked like had been outside, had color to her cheeks and Damian was fairly sure some flecks of grass on her denim shorts.

“Nope.” She walked over, as he turned, looked back at his mirror, picking up his eyeliner brush again. She leaned her arm onto his shoulder, bending down so her face was next to his. “Having some trouble Dames?”

“No,” he lied, attempting to move the brush along his upper lid again. Halfway through though he veered up, and growled, throwing the brush down. “Seven hells.”

“Here, here, gimme that.” Rose reached over, grabbed the brush and stepped back, forcing Damian’s chair to turn around. She cocked her head, studying his face, before handing him a tissue. “Clean that eye off for me kiddo.”

Damian did as instructed, and Rose gripped his chin, holding him steady as she pressed the tip of the brush to his eyelid.

“Takes a helluva lot of practice,” she said, drawing a careful line along his eye, pulling it out into a wing. “You’ll go through boxes of tissues and bags of cotton balls. Trust me.” She moved to his other eye, repeating the process, before returning to the first to drag out the wing just a bit farther, to even it out. “But eventually, you’ll get used to it.”

She reached at the desk, screwed the brush back into the bottle of eyeliner, and spun Damian’s chair around, so he could peer into his mirror.

“Like it?” she asked, as he nodded. “Good. Now, why ya gettin’ all dolled up? Got a date?”

“It’s... it’s not a...” Damian trailed off, cheeks tinging, and Rose smacked his shoulder.

“ _Damian Wayne_  how _dare_  you not tell me you had a date! Why, I’m offended!”

“You do not tell me all about _your_  love adventures.”

“Can fix that. Wanna know how I made out with that hot blonde sister of yours?” Damian screwed up his face, looking more than displeased.

“Ugh, _stop_.” He tipped his head back, looking at Rose, catching her good eye, the other hidden by her tell-tale patch. “I will text you later?”

“You _will_  and then we’ll get sushi and go for a round or two.” She reached down, ruffled his hair. “I could use a work-out. And no one throws a punch like you do.”

Damian smiled. “Deal.”

“And text me _during_ ,” she added, stopping over to get her arms around his shoulders and neck, hugging him. “So I know if I have to swoop in and protect my favorite little bat.”


End file.
